I was thinking about all the various small and big factors that turn a life into what it is, and I came up with an interesting thought - people who're into literature ought to be better at figuring things out than people who're into maths.
Before the math fiends start pelting me with rotten tomatoes, hear me out...
It's because in math, everything has a logical, objective, right answer, and you're either right or wrong, no other ways about it.
In literature, things are more fuzzy - there are lots of greys, many subjective likes or dislikes and there's no correct answer per se ( except in grammer, which may explain why I hated it so) - it's how you explain it.
Isn't that how most of us go through life, especially as we get older and our eyesight dims a little bit and you realise it's not black and white, there are millions of shades of grey everywhere? You answer questions in your own subjective way, figuring things out, and eventually whatever answer you come up with, you figure out a way to justify it to yourself most of the time. Ambiguous. That's life.
1 comment:
Hey, BEV, isn't that your article over at blog.washingtonpost titled 'Mommy wars in India'? You posted it (slightly different, I think) at DMC's a few weeks ago.
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